Chapter 6 - Panic at the Estate
Within forty minutes, the front gates of the Vance estate swung open violently as Richard’s sleek black Mercedes and Sophia’s white SUV screeched up the circular driveway.
Richard burst through the grand front doors without knocking, his tie crooked, his face flushed red with rage and terror. Behind him was Sophia, clad in an expensive designer trench coat, her makeup smeared from crying.
"Where is Harold?" Richard demanded, storming into the grand dining room where Margaret was furiously tapping numbers into her phone. "Have you gotten Harold on the line yet?"
"His line is busy!" Margaret barked back, slamming her phone down on the linen tablecloth. The breakfast table was set for a lavish family gathering—silverware, fresh pastries, imported jams—the standard lavish Sunday morning Margaret insisted upon. But nobody was eating.
"Look at this!" Sophia cried, shoving her phone in Margaret’s face. "The bank sent an official notification! It says the freeze was authorized under the St. Jude Lineage Trust! Mother, you told us that trust didn't have any legal standing until Emma turned forty!"
"Shut your mouth, Sophia!" Margaret hissed, her composure rapidly unraveling. Her aristocratic veneer was peeling away to reveal raw, cornered desperation. "That trust was supposed to be under my sole executorship! Arthur couldn't have executed the Delaware codicil without Harold’s signature!"
"Well, somebody executed it!" Richard shouted, pacing back and forth across the Persian rug. "I owe three hundred thousand dollars to my partners by noon today, Mother! If Vance Holdings doesn't clear that transfer, I’m ruined! They will seize my house!"
"And what about Lily?" Sophia asked, her voice trembling. "Mother, is this because of what you did to Lily last night? I told you that was too cruel! Emma looked at you like she wanted to kill you!"
"Emma doesn't have the stomach to fight me!" Margaret sneered, though a bead of cold sweat trickled down the side of her neck. "Emma is a nobody! She works as an interior designer, she drives a six-year-old station wagon, she has no money for attorneys, and she doesn't know the first thing about Arthur’s corporate structure!"
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Right at that exact second, the heavy brass door knocker struck the front entrance with three loud, deliberate, thunderous thuds.
The entire dining room froze.
